


Long Train Running

by brodylover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Amputation, Blind Character, Bottom Castiel, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Dean is a vet from Iraq and Cas is a clumsy professor. They meet when Cas bumps into him and nervously asks him out on the spot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Look where you’re going." Dean growled, shoulder knocked back from the idiot who wasn’t looking where he was going at all. 

The guy muttered out an apology, shifting his hold on his grocery bag and straightening out. He was a good looking guy, thick dark hair and bright blue eyes behind thick glasses, pink soft looking lips. 

Dean shrugged but kept going. Cute guys were one thing, but there was no point in caring. Hell, they’d never want him in return. Not after he’d taken off his pants. 

But he could feel the guy’s eyes on him and he stopped, turning to see him standing there, arms full. He was dressed too warm for the weather, a full suit and a trench coat. 

"Can I help you?" he asked. 

"Uh, no." the guy turned away. 

"Hey, you were the one staring. You could have kept walking."

"I… I was…"

"What?"

The guy bit his lip and wow, if that wasn’t adorable and hot at the same time. 

"I was trying to figure out a way to ask a complete stranger out for a drink."

Dean smiled at that, running his hand through his hair. “Really? Maybe I can help you out with that. I’ve got a bit of a reputation for asking out strangers.”

"Oh?" the guy was shy, blushing already. 

"Dean." he held out his hand. 

"Castiel." the guy took it, almost dropping his groceries. 

"You need help with those?"

"No. I’ve got it." he adjusted his hold on it. He looked even more nervous, "I should probably put these away before I ask this guy out."

Dean chuckled at that, “Or you can ask him to go home with you and have a drink there?”

"Do you?"

"Yes."

Castiel’s blush spread. Dean wondered how far. He didn’t talk much, just carried his groceries and led the way to his apartment. It wasn’t far, only a few blocks, which Dean was grateful for. He couldn’t walk all that far. 

Castiel was pretty clumsy, Dean realized. He tripped on cracks in the sidewalk, his shoulders and elbows hit trees, people stepped out of his way more often than not. He almost fell on the stairs to his place too, would have, if Dean hadn’t caught his elbow. 

"You probably think I’m pathetic." Castiel had murmured, "I’m not a baby in a trenchcoat though, I can take care of myself."

"I didn’t say anything." Dean smiled, "And you’re not pathetic. You just need to pay more attention."

"If I paid more attention there wouldn’t be a gorgeous stranger holding me up right now."

Dean let go of him. He didn’t know about gorgeous. No one had thought he was for a long time. 

"I’m sorry." Castiel realized he’d made him uncomfortable, "That was inappropriate."

"No." Dean promised, "Just unexpected."

Castiel led him into the apartment. It was small but immaculate. Castiel told him to make himself comfortable and he went into the kitchen, ready to put things away. Dean sat on the couch, it was comfortable, terribly so. It felt good to sit down. There was a book and notepad, filled, at his side, the only bit of clutter. The book was massive, large print, but it was on physics.

The guy was a nerd. A gorgeous bumbling nerd. The kind that he would have beat up back in highschool. 

He came back with two glasses of whiskey, ice stones at the bottoms. He sat on the other side of the couch from Dean and they drank slowly, talking. That’s all it was for a long time, talking about themselves, getting to know each other. Dean told him about his time in Iraq, Sam the lawyer, losing his mom years before, a long string of one night stands. He learned that Castiel was a professor at a local high school, teaching science. He had a large family but they didn’t talk much. He never knew his mother. He’d never been in love or invited someone to his apartment for a drink. 

Or been kissed. He didn’t say it but Dean could tell. It was in the way he drank his whiskey, the way he caught the taste on his lips. It was nervous, virgin, trying to be sexy but failing, being adorable instead. 

They talked for hours, for another glass of whiskey. And Dean wasn’t getting bored. He usually did, he wanted the action, not the slow build. But this guy, he was so energetic. Sure he was a nerd, but when he talked about what he loved, he came alive and he made it interesting. Dean wanted to be talked about like that. 

He wanted this guy. He wanted to fuck that pretty mouth of his, press him up against a wall, show him everything he had missed. But he couldnt, not until Castiel was really really drunk. And even then there was a chance he’d be disgusted by Dean when he showed him the truth. 

He took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt. His lashes were dark and thick and curled. Dean reached out, running his thumb through the tips of the eyelashes. Castiel exhaled as he did and it was such a full exhale it was like he was releasing all of the air in his lungs. 

"We just met." he said, pressing his glasses back into place, "I shouldn’t even be thinking this."

"What?"

"I…" Castiel didn’t look at him. "I want to kiss you."

"Well, isn’t that forward?" Dean grinned, taking Castiel’s chin in his hand. He leaned forward, alcohol on his lips, and tasted those pink lips. He could feel the stiffening of his body, the way he didn’t know how to breathe, the way he didn’t know how to kiss back. 

Dean helped him, moving his hand from his chin to the back of his head. His other hand took Castiel’s steered it so that it lay on Dean’s chest, inches away from his heart. Castiel’s fingers were cold, even through his layers. As he kissed he found that all of Castiel was cold. 

He pressed his lips apart, licked into Castiel’s mouth, tasted his moans and gasps. 

He guided Castiel into his lap, hand trailing up and down the little nerds spine. 

Castiel copied the motions with his own hand, going from Dean’s chest down to his erection. His hand stilled there and Dean found something wet on Castiel, something not from his mouth.

He pulled away to find tears running down the chiseled cheeks. 

"You okay, Cas?"

"It’s just… I want this so bad. I want you so bad. But I can’t. I mean, we just met and I don’t know. I’m not what you want. You want someone like you, or a quick fuck."

Dean shut him up, kissing him rough and hard. “I want you.” he breathed into Cas’s skin. “And I don’t want you for now. I want you for as long as I can have you.”

"You don’t even know me."

"I want to though. I don’t want to know about anyone else."

"Dean…" and it was a plea this time. 

Dena wrapped his arms around Cas, stood up and lifted him up with him. Cas had to direct him to the bedroom but there was no way Dean was setting him down until they got to the bed. 

Cas lay down, fully dressed, and stretched. “I don’t know what to do.”

"Heh." Dean chuckled, unbuttoning his jeans, "I could tell you were a virgin."

Cas smirked, “What gave it away?”

"Just get naked."

Cas did, as fast as he could. He was all straight lines, jutting hip bones, muscles that weren’t over the top, but real, made from work. His legs were that of a runner, his arms of a builder. 

Dean held him down, hands on his biceps, and he trailed kisses down Cas’s body, licking into indents and nibbling on ridges. The man beneath him was hard, his erection thick and pulsing, dripping precome already. He writhed, body begging for more. 

Dean gave it to him, cleaning away his precome before licking a stripe up his cock. He lavished it, tasting it. Sweat and detergent. Even here Cas was a clean freak and Dean worried that he would taste fowl in comparison. 

He swallowed him down, tongue pressing hard against the ridges and veins, swirling around him and then he pulled off, letting the member flop back, hit the poor guy in the gut. 

Dean took it again, bobbing his head up and down it, taking as much of it as he could as Cas writhed, gasped, and moaned. He was new, close to coming already. It was when he was whining that Dean pulled off, pulling back up to kiss him again. 

"Is it always like this?" Cas panted. 

"No." Dean promised, "I like to mix it up. I don’t want you getting bored on me."

Cas bit his lip, trying to keep him there. “I doubt you could bore me.” his hands trailed down and he grabbed Dean’s ass. “Can I taste you?”

Dean froze. Here it was, the dreaded moment. The moment Cas would see what he really was and would be too grossed out, or think of him as too much a challenge, or too delicate, a burden, to be with. 

Cas ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, “I’m sorry.” he closed those beautiful eyes, “You don’t want it. I get it. You want to take care of the poor virgin. You’re not actually into it.”

"What?"

"I don’t need a pity fuck, Dean."

And Dean was clinging. He never clung but here he was, clinging to Cas like he was the only one, the only thing that could save him, like he was some angel that could save him from his own private hell.”

"No. No, please. Don’t think that."

"Then what?"

Dean didn’t want to say it. It was weak and pathetic. He bit his lip. 

"Dean?"

"I’m scared, okay?"

"That doesn’t make any sense."

Dean pulled away from him, pulled himself all the way to the edge of the bed. He was turned away from Cas. He hated talking about this to anyone, Sam barely knew anything. 

"It’s… Whenever I get intimate with someone. It only goes so far. Then they see and they’re so disgusted. They think they’re going to have to drop everything to accommodate me. They don’t want to be with me after they see."

"See what?" he asked, "Your leg?"

Dean flipped around, staring at him, “How did you know?”

"You walk differently." Cas shrugged, "And the way you talk about Iraq."

"And you don’t care?"

"Why would I? Dean, I may not have great vision, it’s deteriorating by the day, but you are beautiful. It’s in your soul. You are strong and righteous and true. You have the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen."

Dean shook his head, “I’m not beautiful, inside or out. I’m not righteous. The things I did in Iraq, Cas, they weren’t righteous. Those were acts of a monster.”

"That was then. This is now. And I’m not giving up on you. Or accommodating for you."

Dean leapt back into the bed then, grabbing Cas and kissing him, hard, pressing him down into the mattress. His hands were everywhere, his worry and fear completely gone. Cas didnt have a problem with his leg, he wasn’t going to leave. Dean hadnt realized how needy he was. 

Cas pushed him away after a moment and this time it was his turn to be worried and quiet and soft. 

"If we’re being completely honest I think I should tell you this."

Dean pulled off, resting on his toes, or, well, plastic toes on one side. 

"I said my vision’s deteriorating. It’s not as simple as that. I have cancer."

Dean could feel his lungs ache. He wasn’t breathing. He had just found him, the only one who he felt he could be completely honest with, the one that didnt treat him like he was handicapped. 

"Don’t look at me like that." Cas took off his glasses. "I have a tumor pressing down on the nerves in my eyes. It’s causing me to go blind. I have surgery next week. There is a high chance I’ll never see again after it. There’s a chance they’ll have to take one of my eyes as well."

Dean leaned down and kissed his eyelid. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

"You can’t save everyone, Dean."

"So what, this is you banging a few gongs before the lights go out?"

"Something like that." Cas admitted, "No one wants to die alone, right? This thing, if I don’t go through with it, it will kill me. I know that. It might kill me regardless. But now. Now I found something to live for. A reason to fight."

"You don’t even know me."

Cas laced their fingers together, held him close. He was swallowing a lot, trying to keep control over his raspy voice, “I want to. Please give me time to know you.”

"I can’t be your anchor. I’m not a hero."

"You are. And I don’t need you as an anchor." he looked Dean in the eyes and now he could see it, a slight glassiness, fog created by medication and pain, "I want you as a goal. Something I can have after I get through this."

Dean kissed him again, “Yeah, okay. But I’m not going to hold your hand in the waiting room.”

"You’re a terrible liar."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean spent a lot of time over at Cas's over the next two days. Cas had offered to come over, but Dean doubted he'd be able to find his way. That was alright though, it was on his way to physical therapy and he liked Cas's place. He didn't have to worry about Sam barging in while Cas was in his lap, glasses off, lips mashed against Dean's. 

Dean liked Cas, liked him more with every moment. Since Cas couldn't see very well, he had become a creature of touch, and he always had a hand on Dean. It was often just resting, but he liked knowing where Dean was, even with his eyes closed. 

The only thing Dean found that he didn't like was Cas's choice in food. It was all frozen garbage, tv dinners and the like, things he knew the length of time for heating in the microwave without having to struggle with the small font face. That lead Dean to do a bunch of grocery shopping on his own and, when Cas complained that Dean was babying him, he answered with a kiss to the forehead and then moved to the kitchen to cook for them both. It was never long before Cas came into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, laying his head between his shoulder blades. 

And he asked Dean to spend the night. He couldn't, he wouldn't. Staying the night meant that he'd have to take his leg off and let his stump breathe and, even though Cas said he was fine with it, he wasn't ready. 

Not until that third night. 

Cas had turned on a record, jazz or something, and he'd asked Dean to dance. Dean had't been good even when he had two real left feet, so he told him to go on without him. Cas was persistent though, knew that alcohol would loosen him up. So they drank bourbon and Dean watched as Cas danced. Even though he couldn't see very well, he knew his room, and he knew his body. He gyrated and swung, hands always in the right position. Dean couldn't stop smiling when he watched him, comfortable, in his element, completely smooth. When Dean realized that Cas's hands weren't in position for leading, he faltered. He knew he was the first Cas would be with, if they ever got there, but he was a follower, not a leader. He had at least danced with another man. 

"You're good." he muttered.

"My brother taught me." Cas explained while turning. 

"I thought you didn't get along with your brothers."

Cas deflated and turned the record off. He didn't like talking about his family. He fell into Dean's lap though and as Dean supported his back he could feel a thin sheen of sweat through his shirt. "It was long ago." was all he gave. 

Then he stole Dean's glass and drained it. "Families are either great or they suck. there is no in between."

"I'd let you into mine if you wanted." Dean kissed him, softly, trying to keep him from spilling his stolen sip. 

"You mean that Dean?" Cas stared at him and those blue eyes were wide, more focused than Dean had seen. 

"Yeah, yeah." Dean promised, "Well, as much as a drunk man can."

"Will you stay with me?"

"You know I can't."

Cas almost kissed him back, keeping his lips millimeters away, "I know you won't."

"I'll stay then."

The grin on Cas's face was so big and bright that he couldnt believe he had ever said no before.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean woke up with a headache and a nasty taste in his mouth and a full bladder. Never go to bed angry and never go to bed drunk, he knew all that, but he had done it anyway. When he opened his eyes though he was disoriented for a moment. This wasn't his room, not his bed. This was Cas's place. He'd actually stayed over, and Cas was still asleep at his side, turned away from him, drooling into his pillow.

Dean pulled on his stocking, then his leg, buckling it as quietly as possible. He didn't want to wake Cas up. As terrible as he was feeling, he was sure Cas felt worse. Once he was whole he hurried off to the bathroom.

Relieving himself was easy, getting that day after taste out of his mouth was a bit more difficult. He hadn't brought a toothbrush with him, and he didn't know where Cas kept his, or if he would be opposed to sharing. They'd made out a bit, a lot, so he shouldn't have any issues with it. 

He scrambling through drawers, wasn't it normally near the top? The top drawer was a mess and for a moment he didnt know what it was a mess of. But then he looked again, his eyes not so cloudy from hangover. 

Pill bottles. 

Temodar, Everolimus, Morphine, painkillers after painkillers. And there was a tray, right in the front, one of the ones old people used, with the days of the week on the little cases. He pulled it out and opened it up. It was Tuesday and Cas hadn't taken his pills yet. The little case was full. There were pills Dean didn't even recognize. 

Cas had told him that he wanted him, had hinted that he wanted to make love to him. Now Dean was glad he never had gone through with it, that that half blowjob was all he had gotten through. Cas couldn't consent with all of these things fogging up his brain. 

And everything clicked. 

Cas was dying. it wasn't some far off thing, not some metaphor. He was dying. There was something in his brain that was going to kill him. And Dean was there, holding his hand, and only now understanding. He was nothing more than life support. Cas didn't act like it, but now, seeing this, it was how he felt. 

Dean had gone to war. He had seen friend after friend die around him. He had lost his leg. And now here he was, expected to watch someone else die? He couldn't do it. He couldn't pick himself up after another death. Not this one. 

He wiped tears from his eyes, surprised that they were even there, and headed back to the bed that Cas was still snoring lightly in. 

He sat, heavy, on the edge of the bed. He didn't know what to do, but he knew that he couldn't stay here. 

He knew it was cowardly, but he found it easier to write it down than actually talk to Cas about this. 

Cas had notepads lying about in almost every room, most with notes about dissertations and presentations from students. Dean turned one to a fresh page and got writing. 

He left the note on the pillow that he had been sleeping on and got dressed, leaving before Cas even stirred.


	4. Chapter 4

Two Days. That was all it took.   
Dean was pacing both of those days, quiet, distant. He was drinking more. Sam hated it, he knew that, but there was no way that he could explain himself. Sam hadn't known about Cas and he didn't want Sam to know. Dean had never told Sam about any of the guys that he'd dated or had one night stands with. Sam still thought that he was a good, straight, son of the great John Winchester.   
But he tried to ask him about it, ask what was on his mind. He'd lay out cups of coffee, sit down, smile softly, wait. Dean never opened up though.   
He was listless and useless. He didnt go to therapy, Sam made him go. He didnt do his exercises, Sam grabbed his leg and stretched it for him. He just wanted to drink and mope and forget about Cas.   
He wondered about him, if he was doing alright, if he was actually sad that the prize he was rewarding himself with was gone.   
It was two days before he received a text message. He had removed Cas from his phone so he knew it was from him and at first he thought of discarding it. Why should he read it? It was probably just Cas begging for him to come back. But then he hesitated.   
Cas didnt text. The buttons were too small, it was too hard for him to see what he was writing. Calling was easier. And why would he wait two days? And if Dean was as useless to him as he felt, why would he contact him at all?   
He opened the message.   
"Hlep."  
Cas was meticulous, he didnt misspell things, even if they were small. This was serious. This was something terribly serious. Cas had family, he must have had friends, why was this call for help directed at Dean? He couldnt think about that. His heart was pounding, his mouth dry, every nerve in him telling him to go.   
Running wasnt an option but power walking was. He shoved his phone in his pocket and raced for the door.   
He'd almost gotten to the door when Sam called out after him. "Dean? Where are you going?"  
Dean collapsed on himself, the good posture he prided himself on crumpling. He was still standing, but he felt small and vulnerable. He didnt know why.   
"Uh." he stammered, "A friend of mine messaged me. He seems to be in trouble."  
"What kind?" Sam walked towards him, looking more troubled then usual.  
Dean closed his eyes. "I don't know. He didnt say. He wouldnt have asked for help if he didnt need it though."  
Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala. "I'll go with you. They might need both of us there."  
"It's okay."  
"It's not if it's as urgent as you seem to think it is."  
So Sam went with him. They drove over and every stop Dean was mentally begging for every other car to vanish. He tried to act cool, tried to pretend that he was calm, but his blood was boiling and he had to move. He had to get there. He had to know what had made Cas so desperate.   
He didnt even wait for Sam to park before he had darted out of the Impala.   
He was rushing up the stairs, taking them two at a time, ignoring how he kept stumbling down them and how Sam was calling out after him.   
Cas's door wasnt locked. Why wasn't it locked?  
He pushed in and called out. There was no response. Surely, if Cas really needed him, he'd say something, lead him in, help him out. It was strange that Cas hadnt been at the door, ready to greet him. Everything about this was strange.   
He moved in further, noting the mess. Things were knocked over and not put back, books and journals and pens littering the floor. The fridge was open and there was a tupperware on the counter, open. He called out again. Still nothing.   
Cas was never dirty. He had everything in the right place at all times. How else would he find it later? Maybe there was a break in, maybe Cas had gotten drunk. He had no way of knowing.  
He made his way to the bathroom.   
He fell to his knee, reaching out. He was shaking. Oh God, what had happened?  
Cas was lying on his side, motionless. There was a pool of water under his face, tears and drool and mucous. He was warm, still breathing, but he was unconscious. He was a mess, hair and clothing disheveled, only one sock on. He'd wet himself at some point as well. Dean reached out, scared, not knowing what to do, and placed a hand on Cas's shoulder, slowly rocking him, trying to wake him.   
"Cas, come on baby, wake up." he was mumbling, not realizing that he was, "Come on. I'm here. I got you."  
Sam was there behind him, breathing like he'd just run up there. "What happened?" he asked, staring down at the scene. "Is he okay?"  
Dean brushed some of the hair from Cas's eyes. "I don't know..."  
Sam found something, a piece of paper in the mess on the counter. It looked like a suicide note, limp from wetness. He scanned it quickly, eyebrows knotting in first confusion, then rage.   
"Fucking hell, Dean." he growled, "What's wrong with you?"  
"What?" Dean stared up at him.   
Sam didnt answer, didn't clarify. He opened a drawer, rummaged through it, then pulled out that old person organizer of pills. He opened up the most recent days, counting them. He handed it to Dean while he dialed a number into his own phone.   
It was a ambulance. Dean should have called them, he should have done something to help. He felt so useless. He looked at the pills.   
Cas hadn't taken the past two days worth. He hadn't taken any medication since Dean had left.   
"What is this?" Dean asked the pills.   
"You told him he couldnt think straight because of them." Sam explained while the phone rang. "You told him you didnt want to be with him because of them. He stopped taking them for you, dumbass. He has cancer and he stopped taking his pain killers because you told him they made him not good enough for you."  
Someone answered, because Sam turned away and started requesting assistance. Dean sat there, motionless, just staring at Cas's limp frame. He had done this. He had driven Cas to this. What kind of monster was he? He hadn't intended this to happen, but he was still the guilty party, he was still to blame.   
He broke everything that he touched.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had never been good at waiting rooms. Or waiting. Or much of anything.   
The EMT's hadn't let him ride along in the ambulance and he'd spent the whole time in the Impala panicking silently, staring at his reflection in the window. Sam was quiet, bless him, and didnt ask any questions. He let Dean be.   
He'd wanted to be there, to hold Cas's hand during the surgery. They wouldn't let him, of course they wouldn't, and he had broken up with him anyway. He'd told him no. Now though, he wanted to take it all back, wanted to hold Cas and be held in return. He wanted everything to be alright.   
It never would be though, not after what he'd done.   
He jumped up when a nurse came to him, but she didnt seem terribly interested in him. At first it seemed she was going to give him the go ahead but then she turned, looked at a newcomer and went to them instead. The new guy was short, with too long of hair swung back behind his ears, and gold eyes. He looked as frantic as Dean felt, but he was glad to follow the nurse back.   
Dean sat back down, his knees aching. He wanted to go. He wanted to be with Cas. He wanted to be useful.   
Sam was reading a magazine. He didnt seem to be too bothered. Why would he be? He didnt even know Cas.   
Eventually Dean was given permission to go and see Cas. Sam nodded and let him go. He would wait.   
Cas was almost unrecognizable. He wasn't awake yet and he was pale and thin, weaker than he had been drunk and bumbling around. He was hooked up to machines and an IV drip. There were beeps and whirs from the machines, checking his vital signs.   
The worst thing though, what made him the most unrecognizable, were the bandages. They were wrapped around his eyes, hiding most of his face.   
"So, this is your fault, is it?" asked the short guy that the nurse had ignored Dean for.   
"What?" Dean glared at him. He was right, of course he was, if Dean hadn't said anything Cas would have taken his pills, he would have been fine. This was all his fault. "Who even are you?"  
"Gabriel." the man reached out, ran a hand through the tufts of dark hair that werent hidden by bandages. "They call me Gabriel."  
"What do you mean, call you?"  
He looked up, golden eyes wide. "I'm Castiel's brother."  
"Bullshit." suddenly Dean wanted to push this guy up against a wall. He wanted him out, he wanted him hurting. He wanted to wipe the smug expression from his face. "Cas hates his family. He told me himself."  
Gabriel looked back down at Cas, sorrow in his eyes. "He doesn't hate all of us." he murmured, "I'm still his emergency contact. We talk, every once in a while."  
"What do you want?"  
His hand moved down, stroking Cas's cheek before sliding down his arm so that he could squeeze his hand. Dean wanted his hand to be there. "I wanted to make sure my little brother was alright. I was the only one who knew that he was sick, he didn't tell dad or any of the others. I had to keep it a secret. And I was going to be here for him during his appointment. But he needed it sooner then expected."  
"I'm sorry." Dean could feel it, the burning in his eyes. He didnt want to cry, not here in front of Gabriel.   
The stranger must have realized, because he let go of Cas's hand and started to head out the door. "I'll leave the two of you alone, I guess. But if I hear that you ever hurt him again, I won't be so forgiving."  
"Don't worry about it." Dean's jaw clenched, "There won't be an again."  
The door closed and Dean was alone with Cas. He pulled up a chair, the only one in the room, so that he could sit by Cas's side. He wasn't able to brush the tears from his face, they fell so fast. They were hot and large and they slid down his cheeks to collect at his chin, only to drip onto Cas's shoulder, soaking through his hospital robe.   
He hated himself. He may have always hated himself, that was why he'd joined the military in the first place, right? To prove that he wasnt a waste of skin. But here he was, worse than a waste. He was hurting people, damaging, using them for his own needs and, when he felt that they werent giving enough, he broke them. He didnt deserve a moment alone with Cas, he didnt deserve anything about him.   
He didnt know how long the moment was, but eventually he wasnt alone in the room. Cas was shifting, weak and tired, but he was moving.   
"Ga..." he breathed and there was so much fear in his voice, Dean wanted to smother him in his arms, hold him close until that fear was gone. "Gabriel?"  
Dean reached out, taking again, hating himself further for being so selfish, taking Cas's hand in his own. "No. It's me, Cas. I got your message. I'm-  
Cas pulled his hand away, laid it down in his lap. He didnt turn to look at Dean, even though he couldn't see. "Where's Gabriel? I thought he would be here."  
Dean sat back in his chair, deflating. Of course, why would Cas be happy to hear his voice? "He let me have a moment. I'm sorry, I should go."  
He stood up but that was when Cas moved, when he reached out. "Why did you come here?" he asked.   
Dean didn't have an answer to that. It was guilt, partially, but he really really didnt want Cas to be alone for this. He wanted him to be safe and healthy and happy.   
"I guess I wanted to apologize. I'm not very good at talking, sorry."  
"You told me that I wasn't ready for you, that I wasnt smart enough or coherent enough to know what I wanted. Dean, I stopped taking my medication for you, I stopped taking my pain pills for you. I wanted to prove to you that I could do this, I wanted to show you that the drugs hadn't changed me. I wanted to make you proud."  
"Cas... I'm so sorry."  
There were wet spots in his bandages, a mix of tears and blood. He was rubbing his nose, trying to catch the mucous from there. "Do you know how bad it hurt? Do you have any idea? I was drinking so much, but nothing would cover it up. I wanted the pills so badly, wanted to be numb, to not feel it. It was the worst pain I've ever been in. I wanted to die. It would have hurt le-  
Dean didn't let him finish. He lounged forward, caught Cas's mouth with his own. He couldnt hear how Cas had wanted to die, he couldnt hear how much pain he's been in. He couldnt hear any of it. It was breaking him up inside. So he kissed him, brash and hard, pushing him down into the hospital bed. He wanted to wash away the tears and snot and blood, he wanted to make Cas all better but he couldn't he couldn't do any of that.   
And Cas was kissing him back. He was getting more strength, grabbing Dean, one hand, one finger pinched by a plastic reader, digging into his hair, pushing him down so that he couldnt escape kissing him. The other was on his shoulder, like it belonged there.   
"Don't leave me again." Cas begged when Dean finally pulled away.   
"No." Dean pressed another kiss to his bruised lips. "No, I'm not leaving you again. I'm so sorry. Never feel like you have to prove anything to me, alright? I'm a big idiot. A big idiot who doesn't deserve you."  
Cas pulled him back down, kissed him until they were both crying again, tasting each others tears as they dripped onto their lips.   
"Take me home?" Cas asked. "Please, Dean, will you take me home?"  
"Yeah, Cas." Dean promised. "As soon as I can, as soon as you're well enough, I'll take you home."


End file.
